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The term “green building” is moving steadily from fringe to mainstream, but its meaning is getting blurrier in the process. Sounds good on a brochure, but is it accurate? What does “green building” even mean?
Green building is the practice of increasing the efficiency with which buildings use resources — energy, water, and materials — while reducing building impacts on human health and the environment, through better siting, design, construction, operation, maintenance, and removal — the complete building life cycle.” (via Office of the Federal Environmental Executive, “The Federal Commitment to Green Building: Experiences and Expectations,” September 18, 2003)
That’s one of the most clear, compact and intelligent summaries I’ve seen in a while.
Here’s another effort to clarify the idea of “green building” from Green Harmony Home.
Efficiently using energy, water, and other resources
Protecting occupant health and improving employee productivity
Reducing waste, pollution and environmental degradation
I’ll continue to cast about for a more universal and straightforward definition of “green building” but this will provide a point of reference for now.
Do you need a utility vehicle for your property? We’re hoping to “re-home” our John Deere AMT 626 John Deere “truckling”. Are you a good match? While our AMT 626 has been a reliable workhorse since, well, since forever (1990-ish, maybe?!?!) it’s old enough that we’re not feeling like a sale is the right option. We’re less interested in trading it for your hard earned loot and more interested in finding the best next chapter for this handsome beast of burden. Who can offer the most idyllic retirement (gentle work, lots of love, and maybe a nice nickname?) for this decades’ old John Deere?
Re-Homing John Deere AMT 626 (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
This 5-wheel legend was a hand-me-down from me parents about a decade ago, and we have pampered it with annual servicing and plenty of TLC. Yes, it’s vintage. And yes, it runs. Recently serviced by United Ag & Turf (August 2022) and, yes, it’s ready for a new property to tend.
Re-Homing?
Why are we re-homing the AMT 626 “truckling” instead of selling it? It’s old. And while it served my parents well, and us well, it’s tough to estimate how much life this iconic green utility vehicle still has in it. Hopefully plenty. But I’d feel uncomfortably extracting payment for a piece of equipment that might need to exit sooner than desired. That said, we have pampered this piece of equipment, and we’ll happily pass on the John Deere servicing department contact information with permission to share any information the new owner would like. I suspect it would be pretty unlikely that a better preserved AMT 626 is out there!
But there’s another aspect to this. So much of our good fortune as Rosslyn’s stewards has been inherited from generations before us. Responsible ownership, conscientious preservation, and magnanimous spirits account for the life we’ve enjoyed on this property. We endeavor to follow in that tradition. As it strikes me, our 5-wheel truckling is better inherited by someone who genuinely needs it, not just someone who can pay for it. And if the “truckling” provides reliable service well into the future, then we’ll be grateful. And if it turns out that it has earned its just repose and her reliable service is curtailed by circumstance, then nobody is worse off.
https://www.instagram.com/p/ClE8gHjPv96/
Much in the same vein as our July 12, 2022 post “re-homing” of the Husqvarna EZ4824 zero turn mower we’re primarily keen to find a good match. The mower found a perfect home. Will the “truckling”?
https://www.instagram.com/p/Cf6Z4kROSKY/
Recent Servicing
Perhaps you remember our midsummer post about servicing the Gators?
John Deere Gator: Three Generations (Source: Geo Davis)
For the sake of accuracy it’s worth noting that the 5-wheeler technically isn’t a Gator. It’s a John Deere AMT 626, and it was the oldest of these utility vehicles in our fleet. We actually inherited from my parents when they sold their Rock Harbor home a couple of years ago. It’s vintage! But it was built John Deere tough, and I expect it’s got a good many years still in it. (John Deere Gator: Three Generations)
Here’s the moment they loaded up the AMT 626 “truckling” and headed off for servicing.
John Deere Gator: Servicing 1st and 2nd Generation (Source: Geo Davis)
In the photo above the older John Deere Gator (left) and the 5-wheel John Deere AMT 626 are loaded onto the flatbed for the journey north to United Ag & Turf for service.
This afternoon I offer you an enchanting video of musician Martin Sexton sunset-serenading (reminiscent of a loon delivering the quintessential Adirondack sundowners soundtrack.) The video’s minimalist description states, “Martin Sexton croons to the Adirondack sunset”. Enjoy.
Another video for Martin Sexton’s Over My Head reads, “Martin Sexton sings before the sunrise over Loon Lake, Adirondack Mountains.” Somewhat dissimilar but soulful songs sung in a similar setting. I’m guessing that both videos were recorded on Loon Lake.
This is my first encounter with the music of Martin Sexton (@martin_sexton) but I find it catchy, at once playful and haunting. And there’s something about the Adirondack evenings and mornings that he captures in these videos — the sacred sunrise, the unpopulated world — that resonates deeply with me. So often I’ve photographed Rosslyn’s boathouse in these hours. And my earliest infatuation with Rosslyn was a fantasy about spending early morning wandering her rooms. My bride tends to sleep later than I, but Griffin — a Labrador Retriever with an early appetite — and I often rise at 5:00 or 6:00 am. I make him breakfast and then head outside with him to welcome the morning with a cup of tea and often a camera or a notebook. Ideas flow in the morning. With so little noise and so few distractions it’s easier to hear the singing underneath. And the morning light as the sun rises over Vermont’s Green Mountains and bathes the boathouse in orange should be classified an opiate!
I’ve hinted at an elusive Adirondack lifestyle that enchants like an Odyssean siren. Or perhaps a Champlain Valley lifestyle. Seductive mornings are a part of either. Both. And Sexton’s song and video evoke this velvety pull. What do you identify with the Adirondack lifestyle?
Can’t do it! Redneck, city slicker, suburbanite, exurbanite, whatever… If you give this energetic summer anthem a second or two you’ll be hooked. Scoff if you need to. Turn up your nose if your tastes are too refined for the Redneck Yacht Club. But I’m gambling that the next time you hear it pumping out the window of a slow-passing pickup truck you’ll smile. And hum the chorus. And admit to yourself that it’s a pretty catchy tune.
Here’s a little taste of the chorus. Try to read it without singing/humming the melody. Just try!
Basstrackers, Bayliners and a party barge, strung together like a floating trailer park, anchored out and gettin loud. All summer long, side by side, there’s five houseboat, front porches astroturf, lawn chairs and tiki torches, regular Joes rocking the boat. That’s us, the redneck yacht club.
(CowboyLyrics.com)
See what I mean? So, your Chris Craft tastes don’t feel comfy with a song about Bayliners and party barges… So what? Stop judging and start bobbing your head!
I did.
You see, for the first year (or two?) that my bride and I were renovating/rehabilitating Rosslyn, Redneck Yacht Club played on always-on WOKO again and again. I don’t remember for sure, but I may have scoffed outwardly (and hummed inwardly) the first time I heard the song. But not the second. I laughed. I sang along. I went out and bought the album! Several years later, WOKO is no longer the default radio channel at Rosslyn, but I still hear the song from time to time. And when I do, it transports me instantly to the days of demolition, of surprises (mold, rot, bad electric, bad plumbing) and a mushrooming scope of work. It also takes me back to a house full of laughing contractors, rambling stories, off-color jokes and meals shared on sawhorses and upturned compound buckets.
Rosslyn Boathouse and Hammock Reflections (Photo: Eve Ticknor)
Every once in a while I get lucky. A dramatic sunrise falling on mist. Gluten free, dairy free chocolate desert on a restaurant menu. A quick smile or pleasantries from a stranger. A dogeared but otherwise forgotten poem resurfacing, reconnecting, re-enchanting after many years…
Many of Eve Ticknor’s (aquavisions.me) watery photographs — especially when hinting of Essex, Lake Champlain, and even Rosslyn — belong in my ever burgeoning catalog of lucky experiences. I have shared Ticknor’s photographs before (Hammock Days of Indian Summer on September 18, 2013 and Eve Ticknor’s Boathouse Photos on June 23, 2014)
Eve’s photographs capture dreamy abstractions that don’t easily reveal their source. (Source: Rosslyn Redux)
The photograph above is a perfect example. It moves before your eyes like a mirage. What is it? A second photograph of the same scene helps demystify the subject.
Rosslyn Boathouse and Hammock Reflections (Photo: Eve Ticknor)
Still stumped? That hypnotic labyrinth of squiggly lines is the key, but the two vertical, shaded columns are helpful too. If you’re still stumped, here’s a third photograph that will decipher the abstract beauty in the previous two photographs.
Rosslyn Boathouse and Hammock Reflections (Photo: Eve Ticknor)
Eve explores refracted and reflected images on the surface of water, never using Photoshop or filters to alter her images. What we see is what she saw. And yet she succeeds in capturing all sorts of whimsical illusions on the water surface. (Rosslyn Redux)
In addition to the mysteries woven into Eve Ticknor’s photographs, I’m also drawn to her “earthy” palette. She often captures rich, nuanced colors in her work, but there’s a muted, organic hue that I find refreshing in today’s super-saturated world of digital photography and pumped up filters. That third image above is especially rich in color and tone, so many putties and heavy contrasts. It strikes me as painterly and meditative in a way that so many crisp, high definition, copies of reality are not.
I’ll conclude with one last hauntingly beautiful images from friend and photographer Eve Ticknor. It is a glimpse over the shoulder of Rosslyn’s boathouse toward the Essex ferry docks pilings, the entire scene veiled in gossamer moodiness. Thank you, Eve!
Rosslyn Boathouse and Essex Ferry Dock Pilings (Photo: Eve Ticknor)
I’ve just received a lovely email from local artist and friend Eve Ticknor (aquavisions.me) with four soothing images of our boathouse. Eve’s dreamy boathouse photos last appeared in “Hammock Days of Indian Summer” last September.
Her new series offers a seasonal bookend to the last set. “Spring!” the photos sing soothingly. “Springing into summer. Soon. But for now, still spring…”
What your boathouse porch looks like in my world. (Photo: Eve Ticknor)
You can see your boathouse better here now. (Photo: Eve Ticknor)
Your boathouse on a more glassy day. (Photo: Eve Ticknor)
It’s an incredible gift when I receive artwork inspired by Rosslyn, and I offer my deepest thanks to Eve (and all of the other generous artists who’ve shared their creative visions with me) for allowing Rosslyn to a-muse you.
While I was waiting for the ferry! (Photo: Eve Ticknor)
In addition to the boathouse photos, Eve included this enchanting image of a duckling family paddling along between the Essex ferry dock and the boathouse. They seem to have swum directly out of a patina’ed storybook!
Before I even realize it I’ve counted the ducklings. Today there are twelve remaining, twelve significantly larger and less fluffy adolescent ducks. I imagine a few ducklings fell prey to eagles or snapping turtles. Or perhaps they swapped momma ducks to join a smaller brood? My mind wanders to the the many perils ducklings face on their sprint to duckdom.
Some progress is pretty. Framing new window aprtures, for example. And some progress is practical. Installing helical piers, for example. Insulation installation is *indisputably* in this second category. And yet, aaahhh… What a relief to have the first phase of insulation complete!
The crawlspace beneath the main floor is now isolated from what will become the first floor by a whole lot of insulation. If you look closely in the photo above you’ll see small furring strips installed at the bottom of the floor joist. We installed 2″ rigid foam insulation board on top of these and then sprayed in XXX of closed cell foam insulation.
Because this is an historic rehabilitation project, preserving the original stone foundation was critical. Successfully pinning the new foundation to the old (ensuring structural integrity for new construction) prevented us from isolating the thermal bridge (old stone foundation plus new concrete foundation and slap). So we framed in a gap around the entire perimeter of the building that allowed us to create a spray foam insulation barrier, minimizing the transfer of cold exterior temperatures during the wintertime. We also foamed the entire curb inside the crawlspace, to further isolate the thermal bridge and reduce interior and exterior temperature exchange. The photo above shows the framing gap around the perimeter, filled with foam insulation.
After Insulation Installation…
Once the spray foam insulation installation was complete, it was time for a subloor.
Supi guided this important step forward so that we can set up staging to frame the west and east gable end windows.
Icehouse Subfloor Installation Almost Complete (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
In this final photo you can see the last narrow strips of subfloor are about to be installed. Not bad for a day’s work!
Insulation Installation and Subfloor Mashup
Haven’t done an exceptionally thoughtful writeup with this post, so perhaps remixing into a begin-to-end recap of the first phase insulation installation and subfloor installation will fill in some gaps. Hope so!
https://www.instagram.com/reel/Cl_Sk_Gg7Xo/
Thanks to Kevin’s spray foam insulation team and everyone else who helped us to reach this next significant milestone. Just imagine once the walls and roof are insulation and the ZIP System panels are installed around the interior exterior envelope. Might start to warm up a little…
Nothing like a region-wide winter weather system barreling down on you to accelerate winter-proofing the construction site, right?!?! But racing the arrival of a pre-Christmas blizzard isn’t the only motivation for the sudden transformation from 100+ year old T&G sheathing to green ZIP System insulated panels though. We’ve been working toward this goal for weeks. Zipping up the icehouse is actually accomplishing several objectives at once.
Okay, let’s start with the most obvious, short term, practical objective of installing the insulated panels on the exterior of the building. But first, I should qualify what I meant by transforming “100+ year old T&G sheathing to green ZIP System insulated panels.” In this case, transformation does not imply replacing the existing sheathing with the SIPs. Instead, these insulated panels are being installed over top of the existing sheathing. And, as explained previously, the existing sheathing for the icehouse exterior walls is actually two layers of 3/4” T&G sheathing separated by perpendicular furring strips that accommodate ooolllddd school insulation that appears to have been made from shredded newsprint.
Given midwinter construction, adding the ZIP panels efficiently creates a building envelope around the entire structure, allowing interior climate control. Windows and doors will not be delivered and installed until springtime, so this cocoon will stabilize the temperature and humidity for construction while significantly improving the work environment.
Zipping Up the Icehouse (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
That’s the short term, practical objective.
There are some structural benefits as well, augmenting the existing structure (which predates our modern building codes) by creating a structural exoskeleton, that, among other things, dramatically improves sheer strength.
We’re using ZIP System 1-1/2“ thick R-6 insulated panels from Huber Engineered Wood. In addition to insulation and structural objectives, these panels also provide a moisture and air barrier between interior and exterior environments.
ZIP System Insulated R-sheathing is the simple all-in-one structural panel with built-in exterior insulation. Featuring integrated moisture, air and thermal protection, ZIP System R-sheathing completely reimagines traditional wall assemblies by streamlining exterior water, air and thermal management.
And there are some aesthetic benefits specific yo the icehouse. Preserving the original mortared stone foundation created meant working around inconsistencies such as spots where the framing was proud of the foundation and others where the foundation actually extended out beyond the framing. Aside from the visual incongruities, this has created moisture penetration and rot issues over the building’s many years of service. When we stabilized the structure in 2006-7 it was necessary to replace large sections of the rotten sill. Additional rehabilitation was necessary this fall as well. By adding an extra 1-1/2” skin around the exterior of the icehouse (and integrating a copper drip edge / flashing that isolates wood from masonry) the entire build now overhangs the foundation enough to manage moisture, snow, etc. for another 100+ years.
But wait… There’s more!
The panels are permitting us to tune up some of the geometry — wall planes and trim lines that have deviated and deflected, sagged and bowed over the years — so that the rehabbed icehouse stands proud next summer.
Icehouse Apertures and Transparency: Matt and Justin framing double hung windows. (Photo: Hroth Ottosen)
It sure is fun to see the three double hung windows emerging on the north elevation of the icehouse. And the three fixies above. And the three fixies on the south elevation. And the freshened up window aperture in the southeast corner, opposite the new bathroom in the small anteroom (once framing, well, and everything else, is complete.)
I’m talking about window apertures. And the transparency that all of the new windows (and doors) will bring to Rosslyn’s icehouse. The transformation will be dramatic!
Icehouse Window Apertures: Matt fine-tuning framing for “fixies” (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
With the north elevation becoming so porous, the team added plastic weatherproofing to ensure that an early December storm doesn’t punish us. In the photo below, you can see the in-between stage that probably should have appeared before the first and second photos above, the progression from opening up the sheathing for the three double hung windows and the three small fixies above.
Icehouse Apertures and Transparency: covering up new apertures (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
This time of year we’re working on borrowed time, racing winter, keeping our fingers crossed that temperatures and moisture will remain within a favorable range. But, we’re also realistic. And practical. Better safe than sorry!
Icehouse Apertures: Matt fine-tuning framing for “fixies” (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
Keeping with my out-of-sequence chronology, I’ll double back again. This time to Matt putting some of the finishing touches on those upper windows. When everything is said and done, these three small window apertures will echo those in the carriage barn stables visible from the west and northwest, adding a handsome cohesion between the two buildings. And they will augment the transparency that is fundamental to this repurposing project. Just as the west wall is transforming from a solid first story and a small service opening on the second story (ostensibly to help pack in the ice?), to a window-filled, view-filled gable end, we’ve integrated a constellation of windows in the northwest section of the north elevation, dramatically shifting the transparency of the interior.
Icehouse Apertures and Transparency: Matt and Justin opening up the new double hung windows (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
Again out of sequence, the photo above and the next one below offer some insight into the process. The team first framed in the window bucks from within the icehouse. Once everything was secure, they cut through the two layers of existing sheathing and the “air gap” which is filled with shredded newsprint insulation (all original to the icehouse) to open the apertures.
Icehouse Apertures and Transparency: Justin tuning up double hung window framing (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
To the right of Justin (in the photo above) you can see the third double hung window and the three small windows (“fixies”) above framed and ready to have the sheathing cut out.
Icehouse Apertures and Transparency: Matt manning the mitre saw (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
All six window frames have been cut out in this photo. Jarret, cutting framing material with the mitre saw, is bathed in natural light even though all six apertures are covered in semi-opaque plastic. Try, if your imagination is feeling nimble, to imagine those apertures a few months from now. The large, lower openings will receive six-over-six double hung windows that can be opened to allow a nice breeze to enter on the north side of the building. And the three small windows above are the non-operable square “fixies” that echo the stable windows in the carriage barn.
Although the drama today — at least in terms of apertures and fenestration — is found on the north elevation of the icehouse, there’s also some headway being made on the south elevation.
Icehouse Apertures and Transparency: Matt and Jarret fine-tuning new “fixie” (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
The new fenestration in the western portion (open area of icehouse with vaulted ceiling) repeats the high (clerestory) windows windows from the north façade, albeit with slightly different spacing. This southern exposure will introduce plenty of natural light to the principal space in the icehouse while editing the view of the carriage barn. Although these new apertures will not result in the same elevation transformation as the north side, they will significantly augment the natural light and the transparency.
Icehouse Apertures and Transparency: Matt cutting out sheafing from new window (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
Although windows will not be installed until spring, we have the ability in the short term (before exterior paneling is installed) to preview the inside-outside blurring — or would that be, outside-inside blurring?!?! — that we’re hoping to accomplish by introducing so many apertures into this small building.
And one more window is now ready for temporary paneling and spring installation of new casement. In the southeast corner of the building, directly to the left upon entering from the east, an existing window has been reframed and replaced with a matching but high efficiency Marvin window (that will be installed in duplicate on the north elevation, one in the same location as previously but now located in a bathroom, and another in the new mechanical room).
Icehouse Apertures and Transparency: shoring up window framing for existing aperture (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
For those of you familiar with the building as it stood prior to this remodel, that aperture is unchanged.
Icehouse Apertures and Transparency: Matt and Zack framing new window (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
Although the location (and window design) remains the same, Matt and Zack are fortifying the window buck to ensure exact location and structural integrity.
In my last icehouse rehab update I caught you up on the internal window framing. Now we’ve taken the full leap!
There are still two windows in the north elevation the need to be framed and open, and then there are all of the hight level windows in the two gable ends of the icehouse. This latter project will take place after first phase of insulation and subfloor installation (both scheduled for next week) so that staging can be set up to work so high up. Updates will be forthcoming…
In closing, a heap of gratitude to Pam, Hroth, Tony, Eric, Matt, Zack, Justin, and Jarret. Have a great weekend!
Rendering for Icehouse Rehabilitation, West Elevation with Gable End Window (Source: Tiho Dimitrov)
Bar none, the west elevation of Rosslyn’s icehouse is undergoing the most consequential transformation of all four facades. From clapboard, clapboard, clapboard (except for the second story access door) and minimalist-but-classic barn vernacular architecture, to a veritable wall of glass at ground level and a picturesque gable end window above, the metamorphosis is a sweeping reimagination of an environment often disregarded (perhaps simply overlooked) en route to the vegetable gardens, orchard, back meadows, etc.
To be 100% unequivocal, this understated facade was incredibly pleasing to the eye long before the icehouse rehab was launched.
Icehouse, West Elevation (Photo: Geo Davis)
Even in the dead of winter, when Rosslyn’s lawns and gardens swaddled in snow, this facade is captivating.
Icehouse, West Elevation (Photo: Geo Davis)
And when viewed as a 2-part barn duo with the carriage barn — after all, the impression from most vantage points on Rosslyn’s front property is of both barns’ collective architectural massing — the relationship of scale and perfect classical proportions makes is mesmerizing.
Icehouse and Carriage Barn, from Northwest (Photo: Geo Davis)
I don’t pretend that we’re making a silk purse out of a sow’s ear, but I’m at once optimistic and increasingly confident that our vision, nurtured into a plan by Tiho Dimitrov (architect) with structural oversight of Thomas Weber (engineer), will by late springtime have added a worthy new dimension to this timeless sanctuary.
Framing West Gable End Window
This afternoon’s icehouse rehab update needs few words to convey the impact of Hroth’s progress, framing in the gable end window that will open up breathtaking sunset views from within and will reflect those same spellbinding riots of color onto the large expanses of glass.
Icehouse Gable End Window, West Elevation, Exterior View (Photo: Hroth Ottosen)
By strategically introducing apertures and maximizing transparency in this small structure we’re endeavoring to dilate the living experience beyond the finite building envelope, to challenge the confines of walls and roof, and when possible and esthetically judicious, to improve porosity with abundant new fenestration, dynamic interior-exterior interplay, subtle but impactful landscaping changes (including a new deck) that will work in concert to amplify the breathability of the interior and temptingly invite insiders outside.
Icehouse Gable End Window, West Elevation, Interior View (Photo: Hroth Ottosen)
If you missed the previous west elevation progress report which captured the lower section when it was opened (closed with weatherproofing in the photo above), then it may be a little difficult to imagine the impact of this interior view when BOTH the 1st story glass AND the gable end window are installed. For now you can allow your mind to synthesize the photographs, but within months we’ll be able to show you the new views from the icehouse out to the orchard and beyond.
Stone Splash Blocks: one fully visible, one scarcely discernible at right (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
As always besotted by artifacts (especially those directly related to Rosslyn) and irresistibly drawn to crowdsourcing as a way to answer questions that my own research leaves wanting, today’s post represents an exciting moment celebrating the convergence of the two. On June 28, 2013 I published “Stone Gutters?” showcasing a pair of mysterious artifacts unearthed while rehabilitating Rosslyn’s carriage barn. From what we could tell they had been repurposed from their original function into stone footings supporting the substructure of the north-side horse stalls. Almost ten and a half years later I can confirm that those singularly handsome artifacts are in fact stone splash blocks.
Stone Gutters
Let’s start with a slightly tightened up recap of the 2013 episode:
A pair of exciting — and slightly mysterious — artifacts have been disinterred from Rosslyn’s carriage barn today…
These beautiful, hand carved stones had been buried 2 feet underground and were serving as ad hoc footers for upright supports in the carriage barn stalls.
What are they? Gutter downspout troughs, perhaps?
What’s clear is that they are works of art. And heavy as lead. Massive hunks of local limestone with almost perfectly round “bowls” leading into rounded run-out troughs. I imagine rain gutters dumping water into these, directing the flow away from the foundation. Perhaps it’s just my wishful thinking?
[…]
My gut tells me that these hefty artifacts were originally part of a stone gutter system. (Source: Stone Gutters?)
I wrapped up that long-ago post with a last minute discovery of a photo and description from Parlington Hall (located in Yorkshire, England) that added a twinge of confidence to my speculation.
Stone Gutters: Scattered about in no particular location that could pinpoint where these sections of masonry were originally installed, are pieces of sandstone with a hollowed out semi-circular trough running the length of the piece, roughly three feet long each. Five have been unearthed todate. These heavy pieces of masonry are very old and as far I can tell are stone gutters which would have sat at the head of the external walls to carry rainwater from the sloping slate roofs. I have produced a series of sketches which illustrtate how the stone was sited in the wall. (Source: Parlington Hall)
Although I was comfortable speculating that what Doug and Jacob discovered while demo’ing the carriage barn stables were in fact part of a stone gutter system, the circular bowls leading into the troughs differed from the Parlington Hall example. And the likelihood that a stone gutter system had been integrated into the construction of Rosslyn (akin to diagrammed examples from Parlington Hall) struck me as extremely unlikely given the size and weight of each individual block.
Stone Splash Blocks
A week ago Pam came across the hand carved stone in the photo above while managing the icehouse dirt work. Actually, she came across both of them. You can just spy the edge of the second one at the right of photo.
I had been storing these *treasures* outside (think lichen-friendly patina-ing) in an area where we stage building and landscaping materials, but she’d never seen them before and was pleased with the discovery. I decided to push the photo back out into the sometimes prodigiously savant interwebs to see if any new ideas might come to the fore.
Eureka! In short order Leslie Jewel Hight (@lesliejewellhight) and Al Tirella (@al.tirella) demystified this decade old enigma. What we had discovered in the spidery underbelly of the carriage barn 10+ years ago was a pair of stone splash blocks. Moreover, they confirmed not just my original hypothesis, but they did so with visual evidence. Here’s the discussion that germinated on Facebook:
Leslie Jewell Hight: It’s a splash block to channel water coming out of the roof gutter away from the building.
Al Tirella: That’s what I thought right off as well.
Leslie Jewell Hight: I’ve encountered a few old buildings that still have functional stone splash blocks. Most have modern aluminum downspouts leading to them, but I saw one that used rain chains and it appeared to me that the rain chains did a better job.
Al Tirella: Frank Lloyd Wright was a huge proponent of the chain downspout. Ingenious whoever was its inventor.
Rosslyn Redux: I believe you two are correct. Thank you. I’d love to find a photo of one of those homes using similar “splash blocks” (great name! New to me…) to serve as a model. Any pointers?
Rosslyn Redux: Hurrah! That is perfect. A Jeroboam of gratitude to you, Leslie. Thank you.
Al Tirella: Ha! As vast as the internet is, I came across the exact image and emailed it to GD a couple of days ago.
Leslie Jewell Hight: It sticks out in the sea of cheap plastic reproductions, doesn’t it? I noticed the photographer said it was at a Shaker site, so I wonder if Rosslyn Redux’s example has the same provenance?
Al Tirella: The modern pre-cast cement ones are not that bad. I have 3 of them.
Rosslyn Redux: Leslie Jewell Hight I wondered the same thing. Sooo similar!
Ah-ha! You ask, and the internet shall provide. Sometimes. Not always, of course, but what a thrilling gift when it does. I offer my most sincere thanks to Leslie and Al. And also to Andrew Raimist (@Remiss63) whose photograph of a remarkably similar stone splash block was included in his Shaker photographs taken at the Shaker Village at Pleasant Hill, Kentucky. It’s worth mentioning that all of his architecture and design photographs command attention, but it is the carved stone splash block that so perfectly confirmed Leslie’s conviction. Indeed it is a twin of our stone splash blocks.
Not Cannonball Molds?
Back in 2013 the men who unearthed the artifacts suspected that they might be a form used for casting metal objects. I asked them to hypothesize what might have been cast with the hand carved blocks.
“A canon ball,” one suggested hopefully. (Source: Stone Gutters?)
I could see where the idea came from, but the size of the potential “fill tube” seemed excessive, and the unwieldy blocks would be tremendously onerous to use. But, what do I know about casting cannonballs?
When I posted the image last week, a similar guess suggests to me that maybe these are pretty similar to what was used for manufacturing cannonballs once upon a time.
Many of us are familiar with Robert Frost’s poem, “Mending Wall“. In particular, this legendary refrain has become a sort of aphorism in the worlds that many of us inhabit.
“Good fences makes good neighbors…” — Robert Frost, “Mending Wall”
As an down-to-earth consideration of this metaphorical truth — one side spoken but unreflective and presumably intransigent, the other side less certain, wondering, questioning — the poem puts the reader in a queer spot. Perhaps both sides are familiar. Perhaps both the conviction and the questioning dwell within us. And yet we likely fall on one side or the other. Perhaps we allow the wisdom of the ages to guide us.
The gaps I mean,
No one has seen them made or heard them made,
But at spring mending-time we find them there.
I let my neighbor know beyond the hill;
And on a day we meet to walk the line
And set the wall between us once again.
We keep the wall between us as we go.
To each the boulders that have fallen to each.
— Robert Frost, “Mending Wall”
Somehow we’re all too often willing to accept that reinforcing a healthy distance, insulating ourselves, separating and protecting ourselves will serve us well. Or at least it will avoid the risk of commingling and wandering and trusting and… And what?
Near the end of the poem Frost offers a counterpoint to the deeply etched aphorism.
Before I built a wall I’d ask to know
What I was walling in or walling out,
And to whom I was like to give offense.
Fencing In/Out
If uncertain who or what or why we’re fencing in and out, we still come up with reasons to reinforce delineating habits. Clear boundaries minimize disagreements. Clear boundaries underpin understanding and consensus. Borders, margins, limits yield the unknown known. Corralling and framing and stockading simplify and clarify. Yes. Usually. But at what cost? Who is hurt? Who is offended? What discourse and interaction is hemmed out?
This evening I unwind a day of reminders that too often we follow the protocols of our forbears without pausing to wonder if they still serve us. Without pausing for compassion, to question whether they serve other, even those we assume that we are serving.
